


give 'em whiplash

by sharkplant



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dancer!Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkplant/pseuds/sharkplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro continuously trying to dance consistently being unable to dance. Dave is done with Bro's bounteous craps. John is dead to the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give 'em whiplash

**Author's Note:**

> this is fairly bog-standard _John Comes to Stay in the Strider Household (Appartmenthold???) Oh Look Shenanigans._  
>  brainchild of me and friend about Bro being that guy who really wants to dance, but???just???can't????  
> Absurd-but-ultimately-loving-guardian!Bro is all I need to sustain me. can be read as davejohn depending on how you imagine their sleeping arrangements  
>  _ ***dumps and runs away***_

Your name is Dave Strider and it was a fucking miracle. You have woken up before self-proclaimed morning-asshole John Egbert.

Perhaps “self-proclaimed” wasn’t the right phrase. “Strider-dubbed” may be more accurate but in this 19th floor apartment, Strider-dub is law.

It wasn’t unknown that John was like a the bouncy, shitty 5 year old that liked to jump on his parent's bed at the fucking asscrack of dawn. _The skyorb has arisen, now is the time to scream_ so on and etc. and all that...

It felt like an achievement to have your eyes open before his. Someone hand you a god damned trophy. However it wasn’t out of any self-helping desire to forgo sugar, eat only what you can grow yourself, greet the sun through what was basically contortionist training.

No, no. It was more because there was fucking _Trini Dem Girls_ blasting from the hallway. Now, your grumbles come not because its Minaj, because you can respect that, _50K for a verse, no album out,_ but at 6:30 in the AM?

Nah. Not here for that noise.

Well, any noise. And not that buttfuckingly loud. You don’t know how John is still snoozing through it.

It’s hard to remove yourself from bed, what with Egbert being in the way, but you find the door without waking him.

You open your door with the intention to investigate. Time suddenly goes to a standstill, crawling along. If this were a nature documentary, tiny fern fronds would unfurl, ice would crystalize a lake, your older brother’s face wouldn’t be meeting the hallway floor so intimately.

However that is what is happening. His legs, up where his head should be fall away toward you, until he’s bent over like he’s attempting...something.

‘What the shit, Bro?’ you hiss, not wanting to wake John even though the song is louder now with the door open.

‘Strider twerk team,’ Bro offers and a grin and a fist from between his legs.

You want to be surprised. No really, you do. But you’ve largely habituated to your brother’s shit by this point so all there is left to do is sigh. You pull the door closed behind you, step around your ridiculous sibling and shut off the stereo, yawning all the while.

‘You’ve been watching choreography videos again haven’t you?’

Bro shrugs, as if the answer wasn’t at all fucking self-evident.

‘Whatever. Just plug some headphones in or some shit, I don’t know. Egderp is still asleep.’

‘That aren’t normal.’ Bro screws up his face.

‘Yeah,’ you admit, ‘I’m greatly aware of his morning-assholeiness.’ Bro hasn’t put his fist away. You bump it only so he doesn’t strain himself. ‘I’m having a shower.’ You inform and then remind, ‘Headphones.’

Bro shrugs again, staying in form.

You find a clean towel, strip, and turn on the water. You appraise yourself top to toe quickly before ducking under the spray. You make a note to check the price of wigs on ebay and doublecheck Bro's creditcard details.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [ _i wanna be a dancer..._ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJaTxaulAMo)


End file.
